


Unrealized Unmasking

by AppleSoda



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Secret Identity, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 11:05:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16515167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AppleSoda/pseuds/AppleSoda
Summary: A casual conversation at a festival makes Leo more curious to pry into the past of his loudest retainer. But he learns some lessons about his own inquisitive personality in the process.





	Unrealized Unmasking

“To a good harvest!” bellowed Odin Dark, running throughout the alleyway powered by enthusiasm and the three pastries that he had wolfed down. His eyes eagerly searched for more stalls filled with delicacies from different regions of Nohr.

 

Prince Leo of Nohr, who walked besided him, bundled up with a thick woolen cloak to shield himself from the cold. He had been working busily during the days leading up to the festival to make sure that Hoshidans and foreign nations had a place in the celebrations as an action of goodwill. Though he and Xander kept up a careful rapport with the other kingdom, people’s hearts were tougher to win.

 

The public squares and streets of Windmire bustled with activity as Nohrians milled about, sampling treats from a particularly good harvest season that year. Children snacked on sticks of candied honey and pears that Leo had arranged to be shipped from Hoshido in a particularly ingenious deal with a farming village. 

 

“With this sustenence, I am certain that the most potent of dark magic may power my spells should an assailant strike you, Lord Leo.” Odin was surprisingly agile after eating what Leo had judged to be a small hamper of festival treats. Wherever his retainer had originated from, people likely processed sweets differently. Inwardly, he chuckled at the thought.

 

Still, there were a few nagging instances that had continued to weigh on Leo’s mind. For one, there was never any trace of the trio of mercenaries given to him and his siblings in recordbooks that he scoured through libraries, archives, or logs within churches. Nohrians, who valued life even for the most short-lived of family members born and dying in harrowing seasons, wrote down the names and records meticulously. Yet Leo found that Odin, Laslow and Serena each kept their secrets.

 

“Were you always a dark mage, Odin? I…can’t help but notice your…unusually fresh enthusiasm for the practice.” Leo remarked. “It’s uncommon for Nohr’s dark mages to behave that way.”

 

“Lord Leo, if there is anything that I can do that is more befitting your champion in the grimmest of arts, all you need to do is ask!” The words were bright, but could have easily been said by a wind-up toy that fulfilled the basic motions of a retainer. To Leo, that sort of treatment wsa unaccesptable.

 

“My request is this,” Leo turned to Odin, certain that he was onto something. His eyes shone bright with anticipation as he continued to speak. “Tell me what swordfighting is like.”

 

The words left him before he could help it, and instantly he saw Odin’s features tighten into a stricken expression.

 

The mistake took whatever options Leo had felt he had had in how their conversation could proceed and shoved them out the window. It was an unsettling path that they were on, and no plan he could possibly think up could properly prepare him for it.

 

There was a slight twist to Odin’s mouth as he ran his tongue over his teeth, perplexed and displeased by Leo’s pressing of the question. His eyes darted every direction in the crowd as his mind raced with the sudden realization of a thin metaphorical tightrope.

 

“How would you know I’ve used a sword?” Leo heard his retainer manage at last.

 

“Well…” Nohr’s second prince let out an exasperated sigh, then reached over and took Odin’s arm. As he shifted closer, he noticed the other mage freeze up, and that there was a strange mark that almost seemed to be inked into the side of a man he thought couldn’t stay still enough for a tattoo. “You have the calluses right here.” Leo tapped his fingers against Odin’s open palm. The deductions came to him quickly, distracting him from the feeling of getting whatever he had gotten wrong about his initial questions. Letting go of Odin, he stepped back and brandished the simple fire tome he carried out that night to guard himself. Leo knew he was close to finding another name, another identity, and another story out of his secretive retainer. All he had to do was push a little further.

 

“When you gesture for spellwork, your footwork matches that of a mercenary or samurai’s. Therefore, I can only conclude that in your early life, Odin, that you preferred the blade to the tome.”

 

Though he thought that his reasoning was something of a small triumph, the only thing that Leo realized he had managed was that his retainer drew further into himself, swallowing several words he’d wanted to say, his seated posture unnaturally stiff, as if the question had frozen him in place.

 

“Even if I had wanted to, I don’t know if I could…” His brows furrowed as he stared down at the open palms Leo had just pointed at. “Let me think…Well, have you ever had to give something up to get a spell to work?”

 

The bombastic, over-elaborate language that his retainer usually used had vanished in an instant. That in itself was clear to Leo, even mid-theorizing, two things: that Odin was about to tell him something, and that he had stepped over a line.

 

“Spellwork requires preparation and work, but…I don’t believe you’re talking about just those two costs, are you?” They had wandered over from the main streets of the festival to a small park in a less-rowdy square. Magic, tactics, and puzzling out things had been topics that were safer to stick to. But none of those things would earn back Odin’s trust.

 

“Not exactly…But even if I were to find an artifact that could grant me a sword hand once more, well…you give up something, and you remember it.” Odin closed his eyes. “Saving what you care about at such a cost…I think I would make that choice if it meant this realm stayed safe.”

 

Had Leo been asked about his confidence in Odin making such a choice months ago, he would have turned his head, looked dismissively at the other person, and replied that of course the man who insisted naming every attack and weapon in sight would never do such a thing. Yet the more he learned about the mysterious cohort of retainers that had worked their way into the royal family, the more his mind changed. Neither he nor his sister and brother had ever asked their guards of anything more than they would any other servant. Yet Odin approached his duty with a zealousness that he had disregarded for far too long.

 

Which left Leo was an unsettling conclusion that pressed against him suddenly— that he had been cruel.

 

“I…I see.” Aspiring strategists were always warned about the human element in armies, but never really given clear instructions on what to do if they got things wrong. He thought to someone who likely knew better about those sorts of things.

 

Elise was always the first to come to mind whenever Leo puzzled over people. In a circumstance like this, she thrived. And despite his lack of a smile that didn’t cause people to ask what had gotten into him, he was determined to build whatever it was that made people trust his youngest sister so easily.

 

“I apologize, Odin. I hadn’t realized…I…There was something different about you when you looked at swords.” That sort of direct honesty, where he simply said what he was thinking, was an awful phenomenon, like taking a bite out of a creature that inhabited the toxic swamps to the south. Yet Leo pressed on, knowing what he would have to say. It was a duty, in a way, towards becoming a better prince. More importantly, he admired the zealous, loud retainer that stood at his side, perhaps more than he cared to admit.

 

“There’s a lot I’d like to tell you about a sword very dear to me, Lord Leo, but this isn’t just my secret to tell.” Odin nodded. When his usual self had given away to his more serious side, there was almost something of a noble bearing about him. “I need to know for certain when the time has passed, and then I’ll have the most marvelous, legendary stories of the adventure we’ve had.” When he grinned again, the relief that Leo felt was palpable, leading him to guess why so much of his happiness had been at stake over the state of how Odin was doing.

 

“You could do that with your tales here,” Leo found himself suggesting. “I’d read it. Or help you write it down. We can write you into Nohr, starting with what you’ve done during the War of Valla.”

 

At the idea of a real collection of his bravery, Odin’s eyes lit up at once, and the sensation of his happiness sent sparks of energy invisible to anyone but the two of them scattering off into the early evening. Just as he had realized what he had said wrong, Leo knew that the idea of a book chronicling adventures, likely to be embellished by Odin’s words, was something that could make him impossibly happy.

 

“We have to start writing it now. I’ve got so many battles to describe! Such wondrous attack names! Oh, you always have the best ideas, Lord Leo!” Odin grabbed him by the arm as they set out back towards the festival. “Alright. Chapter one, the shadows of injustice loomed over two mighty nations…”

 

Leo was certain that whatever chapters with Odin lay next, in present and in future, was well worth listening to.

 


End file.
